


the night will simply fall & the morning will rise

by bruised_fruit



Series: unhealed and rotting [7]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Bittersweet, Far Post-Canon, Grief/Mourning, Suicide, discussion of end of life care, not whump but still pretty heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruised_fruit/pseuds/bruised_fruit
Summary: “Goodnight,” Taako says, putting a hand on Davenport’s shoulder as he passes through the doorway.Davenport wants another kiss. Just one more, but it would be unusual to ask for it, so instead he says, “Say hi to Kravitz for me,” and Taako nods.That’s all. Famous last words: tell your husband “hi.”
Relationships: Davenport/Taako (The Adventure Zone), Davenport/The Director | Lucretia, background Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone)
Series: unhealed and rotting [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654714
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	the night will simply fall & the morning will rise

**Author's Note:**

> please don't read this fic if you think it may be triggering
> 
> also sorry for all the references to fics i haven't posted yet. it might be helpful (though not necessary) to read [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295320) and some of my other old post-canon fics first

He didn’t plan it for tonight. But lately, he’s been acutely aware that Taako doesn’t need him anymore. Sometime between their meal and sex, he decides he’ll kill himself after Taako leaves. 

It’s a dumb thing to tip him over the edge, but Taako has settled into the life he’s living, and he seems so happy and content, and tonight, Davenport is more sure than ever before that he is nonessential, that Taako will have a full life without him in his world. And it’s not like there’s anyone else still alive who might want him around. 

He doesn’t mind not being needed. It’s okay. It’s good, more than anything. He’s been looking for the opportunity to leave for a long time now. 

They’re naked in Davenport’s bed, afterglow already fading, and all he can do is think about their dead family. The two of them are so alone most of the time, though Barry and Lup will sometimes spare Davenport a visit, and Taako’s forged connections with a number of people on Faerun. Everyone loves him, but most of the people they loved for so long are gone. 

Davenport shifts, his back pressing against Taako’s chest. 

“You never really get used to it, do you?” 

“I guess not,” Taako says, and he sounds a little unsure, maybe not knowing what exactly his former captain is even talking about. 

There’s an unspoken _ I miss her_, and an unspoken desire to hear Taako admit he does too. Nearly two hundred years without Lucretia, and she’s all he can think about even after being freshly fucked by the man who swore he’d spent the rest of his lifetime hating her. 

Well. He misses all of them, of course. There’s just a sort of irony to letting Taako fuck him. Letting Taako comfort him, and take care of him. 

Maybe it feels like a bit of a betrayal, though of course Lucretia wouldn’t have felt that way. But Taako had only visited her once toward the end. How cruel, maybe, but she’d been so grateful just for that. How _ unfair. _ She lowered herself even in her old age, as if she hadn’t deserved more from all of them. 

Davenport snuggles back into Taako’s arms, letting them wrap around him, engulfing him in a familiar warmth. Gentle, always gentle and careful, especially now that Davenport has finally started showing his age. And Taako has mastered stepping around difficult conversations, cushioning anything that might be detrimental to Davenport’s well-being like he never would before. Maybe it’s necessitated. He’s only become more delicate with age, tearful at even the memory of her. Weak, now. And it’s got to be hard on Taako too, when they’ve both always been about resilience. 

But Taako will be okay. Taako has Lup and Barry, and his husband, and Davenport has no one, not even Taako, at the end of the day. 

“I’ll miss you,” he says quietly. 

“I’m right here,” Taako says, and he kisses the top of Davenport’s head. 

\--

Sex with Lucretia was always so good. It’s not bad with Taako, but it was so just special, so wonderful, down to the way she watched him undress, anticipating but not impatient or demanding. The slow, almost shy spread of her thighs, even after decades together. Her sounds, human and perfect. The way she looked and felt. He could spend hours just admiring her, reveling in her body, her touch, just giving her as much pleasure as possible. The taste of her, the warmth of her, every inch of her so good, like they were made for each other, like it was all meant to be. There were little things he could just worship for hours-- her stomach, her inner thighs, the head of her clit. Even when it was only soft, it was still so pretty, slender and lovely. 

Taako’s prosthetic is, too. And he is not entirely unlike her in bed, but it’s not the same kind of pleasure, the same kind of love. There were all sorts of words Davenport would use for Lucretia that he’d never use for Taako. All sorts of things he’d do, and things she’d do for him. He would bare everything to her, spread himself wide for her to see and touch, while he’s never stopped being cautious with anyone else. Only she ever really noticed things, really listened. Only she really made him feel loved. 

Nothing could ever compare to her. It aches knowing he’ll never have her again. 

He barely even has Taako. 

Stupid, stupid. It’s not like he ever actually had Lucretia, either. 

\--

“Goodnight,” Taako says, putting a hand on Davenport’s shoulder as he passes through the doorway.

Davenport wants another kiss. Just one more, but it would be unusual to ask for it, so instead he says, “Say hi to Kravitz for me,” and Taako nods. 

That’s all. Famous last words: tell your husband “hi.” Davenport watches the elf leave and closes the front door. His back hurts. He wants to eat the rest of his blackberries, and have a nice bath, and rest, finally. 

\--

He sits at his table, eating slowly. One blackberry at the time. 

He isn’t exceptionally old yet, but it reminds him of how he’d feed Lucretia near the end. Just a bite. Then another. If you can’t, you can’t. It’s fine, darling, I’m not upset at all. He used to cast Silence in the hallway, but she could still tell when he’d been crying. It had been so hard, the way her healthy body broke down into nothing, the way she clung to life just for him, and the fact that she was suffering, yet again, and there was nothing he could do to alleviate her pain. 

Blackberries and raspberries were always his favorite food, even as a kid. There were some that grew right by his house. 

He’d always hoped they’d land on a planet with bramble fruits. A private indulgence, having a favorite food. And childish, but he had eaten fistfuls of raspberries back on cycle 14, nearly tearful after having gone so long without them. The whole crew saw him like that, and they thought it was hilarious. 

She tried to reintroduce the berries to him during the decade, and she thought she had ruined them for him somehow after he’d spat them out, but that wasn’t it at all. He’d just been afraid, with his fuzzy brain, that he’d done something wrong for her to stare at him like that while he ate what she’d given him. 

Only a couple berries left in the bowl. At this point, he always treats them like they’re the last ones he’ll ever eat. 

\--

He brushes his teeth and drinks a large glass of water before running the bath.

What else is there to do? Everything is in order, so he makes his bed, humming an old aria to himself. The opera had been short and in Common, a bit of a rarity and often not a great sign, but he had enjoyed it. A cliche old story of a young man wooing a young woman, some contrived conflict, and a happy ending, succinct and predictable. 

What cycle had it been, again? He tests the water with a finger and turns it a little warmer. Lucretia didn’t mind lukewarm water, but in the years without her, he’s indulged in all the little things he likes. Taking steaming hot baths, cooking something new every week, maintaining their little garden, volunteering at the library in town. Nothing she’d disapprove of, nothing he hadn’t dabbled in while she was alive. 

It had been Tesseralia. They’d eloped just for fun, and to celebrate, they’d bought tickets to the only show available. 

The aria is very simple, but isn’t simple good sometimes? Their lives were so uncomplicated that cycle. And in her last couple decades, too. Just having each other, finally, and loving each other, caring for each other. A sweet song that isn’t once surprising from start to finish. 

The melody ends. The bath is warm and comfortable, and his body is so tired. Even a gnome’s joints begin to ache with age. 

She’d been in pain near the end. She’d refused formal palliative care, and he’d taken care of her himself. She always wanted to kill herself, but in her old age, she never broached the topic with him. He should have let her have the option. He was selfish, but she never held it against him. 

He takes his sleeping pills, all of them. He’s decisive with the slender blade along his forearm before he drops it to the tiled floor, and when the red seeps into the water and the haze sets in, he doesn’t regret it. He’ll never have to regret anything anymore.

\--

He opens his eyes to a train car, grey and white, and a shifting hilly landscape outside in the same faded monochrome. It reminds him of home, of picking berries with his sister Daphi on the outskirts of the warren. 

He looks through the car and finds Lucretia in the back, watching him silently. She looks just as old as on the day that she died, but with a vitality to her that she hadn’t had for the months or years leading up to her death. She’s sitting upright, and she watches him intently as he makes his way toward her. 

“There you are, Drew,” she whispers as he climbs onto the seat beside her.

He presses a kiss to her cheek, then her mouth. 

He hopes this is real. When he pulls back, he just stares at her, tears welling in his eyes. They had too many years apart, and he never dared entertain this. Being with her, being together again. 

“I missed you so much.”

“I know...” Her hand runs over his back, and the landscape flies by outside. 

“Where are we? Isn’t this the train the boys recovered my oculus on?” 

“It is,” she says. “I guess we have a way of making it about the rest of them, even in death.”

Davenport slips his hand into hers, warm and so soft. He just never thought he’d have this again, never get to touch her again, or see her, hear her voice, so beautiful, so _her_. She squeezes his hand gently, and when he looks up, there’s a small and solemn smile on her face. 

“I missed you too,” she says, like she’s assuring him of it. 

“Are you mad about the way I went?” 

“It was a little hypocritical of you,” she says, and he chuckles weakly. “But I know you needed to rest. ‘When nature calls, you go,’ and all that… I can only hope it won’t be Taako who has to recover the body.” 

He makes a noise of assent, then rests his head against her chest. He can hear her heartbeat and smell the faint mix of chamomile and tea tree oils that she always liked to wear. 

“How long will this last?” he asks. 

Her arms wrap around him. He feels her take a deep, calming breath. He nuzzles her sternum, presses as close as he can. 

“Just this train ride, baby. Soon it will be quiet. You won’t be able to see me, or feel me. But we’ll always be together. We’ll have forever.”

She kisses his forehead, and her arms tighten around him. He’d be content to sleep for the rest of the train ride, pressed close to her and held like something precious, something so loved. 

“That’s all I need.” 

**Author's Note:**

> title from "avila" by the wailin jennys
> 
> i will not rest  
until this place is full of sunlight  
at least until the darkness  
is quiet for a while  
and we will not wait  
for that murder to come calling  
the night will simply fall  
and the morning will rise


End file.
